


bees to honey

by Katraa



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira likes Horror Games, And Akechi evidently does not, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Gen, M/M, Shipping If You Squint, Slight Shuake, Swearing, Teambonding, Video & Computer Games, horror games, minor character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: Akira Kurusu was truly an interesting person, that much was obvious.  Even after a couple chance encounters, Akechi knew that he wasn’t a run of the mill person.  There was more to him than could be discerned at first blush.  What he also knew – regrettably – was that the leader of the Phantom Thieves lived up to his codename a bit too well.Also known as: Akira invites Akechi over to play horror games.  What could go wrong?





	bees to honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuwaesthetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/gifts).



> I HAVEN'T PLAYED THE ORIGINAL OUTLAST IN YEARS.  
> SO SORRY IF I FUDGED THE OPENING SCENE A BIT.  
> but yeah i love horror games and akira does too. it's fine.
> 
> i just wanted some slightly shippy fluff and mindless banter, ok?  
> this was supposed to have more bad jokes.  
> i instead went for snark.  
> oh well.
> 
> DEDICATED TO BELLA FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME AND MY DUMBASS AKIRA.

Akira Kurusu was truly an interesting person, that much was obvious. Even after a couple chance encounters, Akechi knew that he wasn’t a run of the mill person. There was more to him than could be discerned at first blush. What he also knew – regrettably – was that the leader of the Phantom Thieves lived up to his codename a _bit_ too well. 

“Ah. Hand me that.”

Akechi lifts a brow, gaze trailing away from the messy-haired boy over to the abandoned game controller laying on the desk nearest him. His lips purse and his gaze lingers right around the same time his hands flex uncomfortably in his lap.

“Does your school not teach you manners, Kurusu? To respect your elders?” asks Akechi loftily, not budging an inch.

“Mm,” Akira answers noncommittally, reclining further against the wall at the top of his bed. “Maybe.”

“I see…” Akechi trails off, eyes burning holes through the lone controller sitting idle on the desktop. “Then allow me to give you an impromptu lesson. You usually catch more bees with honey – words such as please and thank you get you further than brute force alone.” 

How laughable.

“I don’t like bees, so I’ll take my chances,” Akira deadpans, arms stretching above his head, glasses slightly askew.

Akechi’s calm, _so calm_ demeanor doesn’t falter, even as his fingers curl inward, digging at the soft flesh of his palm. “It’s an expression. Forgive me for being so bold as to comment, but it seems to me that you’re rather fond of people.”

“Mm.” Akira makes the noise again and drops his arms uselessly by his sides. “I want to show you a game. So grab it.” A beat, Akechi’s gaze meets Akira’s, and with a curl of his lips that’s undeniably _Joker_ , “Please.”

“Of course.” It’s said as a lilt as Akechi rises from his seat on the futon to scoop up the controller. Instead of tossing it, he brings it over to the bed and sits on the far edge of it, depositing the controller on the long stretch of mattress between them.

Akira adjusts his glasses and takes the controller. Quickly, he begins mashing buttons that eventually brings up a game menu on the screen of his dingy television set across the room. 

“It’s called Outlast,” Akira explains, focused on skimming through a few game options, tongue sticking out just a bit in utter focus.

Akechi watches him work, far more intrigued by the enigma on the bed beside him than whatever game Akira has deigned to show them this evening. He barely notices that it’s begun to rain outside and that by all means he should be excusing himself and heading out for the night before Leblanc closes. He instead notices the way Akira’s bangs nearly fall in his eyes, the frames of his glasses being the only thing preventing it.

“See something you like?” Akira asks, indifferently, not looking away from the screen.

“You need a haircut,” Akechi in its place answers. 

“Boss said the same thing,” Akira says with a breathy sort of chuckle. After a few more clicks, he unceremoniously tosses the controller in Akechi’s lap. It lands with a slight _thud_.

“Hm?”

“You should play,” Akira explains, meeting the detective’s slightly wide eyes. “It’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Yeah. That’s why I started a new game for you. They have tutorials.”

“Admittedly, I’m not very good at these things.” 

“I think you’re making up excuses.”

“Perhaps.”

But Akechi acquiesces, hands cupping the controller. He shifts his body so he’s angled more towards the television. On the screen is a poorly lit wooded-area just outside what appears to be some sort of hospital. Mental asylum, perhaps. The game appears to be in first-person, and a quaint video camera is revealed to be the means of recording and progressing.

“It seems rather cliché,” Akechi says as the opening scene plays out and leaves him in control of the character. His gaze shifts back to Akira, meeting steely grey, and his next statement dies on his lips. There’s something about that gaze, something about that moment just then. Akechi ignores it and looks back to the game, shoulders tense, idly nudging his thumb forward on the controller.

“You need to find a way in,” Akira pipes in.

“Thank you, peanut gallery,” Akechi hums, leaning forward just a bit as the character begins to move. 

It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that Akira’s watching him intently instead of the game, but Akechi ignores that, too. He ignores it in favor of finding a way into the aforementioned hospital. It doesn’t take long, climbing up some sort of latter and maneuvering over some boxes, and he’s finally inside the even worse-lit hospital.

“Do places like these really look this ominous?” murmurs the detective. Akira laughs softly – almost fondly – under his breath.

So Akechi continues, getting used to the controls, leaning forward and sometimes left and right when the character does. His shoulders grow tenser, though, as the music picks up, and then relax, as the music dies down and a letter or note are found. That politeness, that saccharine smile, is momentarily displaced by a look of intense focus. 

“You should—” Akira begins to say, edging closer on the bed to try and press a button on the controller. To his surprise, Akechi jerks the controller further away and visibly purses his lips, looking quite pouty. “…Or not.”

Akechi doesn’t remark. His eyes remain glued to the screen, guiding the character through a particularly cluttered office. 

Akira doesn’t take it personally. A grin splays across his features and he remains closely seated to the detective, eyes sweeping from the screen to the brunette beside him. His long lashes frame his slightly narrowed eyes – attentive, focused, pretty eyes that are puzzling through the mystery, the game, the atmosphere. There’s a strange vulnerability to them and Akira leans closer, warm breath ghosting over his teammate’s ear.

“Boo.”

“Kurusu.” Akechi says it flatly, not looking over at him, only marginally tensing at the word. “You aren’t scary.”

“Darn,” Akira drawls and he rests his chin on Akechi’s shoulder – it’s a bit pointy, actually – and his gaze darts to the screen. A wicked grin takes shape on Akira’s face, eyes twinkling mischievously behind his glasses.

Any moment now. One, two, three –

As if on cue, _some type of creature_ barrels through the darkness, onto the screen, loud and assertive. And just as Akira had hoped, Akechi’s grip on the controller seizes up, knuckles turning white, face contorting in confusion, shock, and then a blip of _fear_ , of realness –

“ _Fuck_!” 

And he swears. The polite, prim, proper detective drops the f-bomb and hunches his shoulders up defensively, consequently knocking Akira off his perch.

Akira bursts into uncontrolled laugher. His arms fly around his own waist, hugging himself as the laughs spill forward, deep and happy and real. Akechi pauses the game, breathing heavily, eyes wide and looking much liked a pissed off house cat. In that moment, he looks real, he looks like a grumpy teenager and not the murderer, not the wearer of many masks that Akira knows him to be. He looks like a friend.

“Enjoying yourself?” Akechi drawls out, almost scathingly, as he watches Akira drop his face into his hands, still laughing loud enough for all of Leblanc to hear.

“That was… Your face…” Akira can’t properly speak, grinning madly behind his hands.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“It was,” says Akira, lowering his hands, tossing Akechi a wicked grin. “It was actually pretty cute. You almost screamed.”

“I was … momentarily caught off guard,” Akechi says, the anger dissipating, scrambling to shove a smile back on his face. “It’s your own fault if I hit you, by the way. That was a stupid idea to sit like that.”

“Worth it.” Akira grins ear to ear and lets his arm drape lazily around Akechi’s waist.

Neither of them comment on it.

“I assume the best course of action is to run?”

“From the thing? Yeah. You don’t have weapons.”

“Quaint…” Akechi rolls his eyes, biting his bottom lip as his finger hovers over the unpause button. “This doesn’t seem like a game you’d enjoy.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Akira answers, hand heavy on Akechi’s far hip, eyes glued to the screen, smug grin ever-present. 

“Yes… as always, you’re quite the interesting person.”

“Stop talking and unpause it. I want to see what happens next,” goads Akira, nearly reaching with his free hand to press the button himself.

“You’ve played it before,” Akechi rebuts, shoulders finally relaxing, pout still slightly visible despite his best attempts to _look pleasant_.

Akira burns the memory into his mind. He stores it away with all the treasure he’s managed to steal so far. All the secrets he’s learned from his confidants. He squirrels it away for further use. Akechi is human, deep down, and is strangely hot when he swears, when he swells up and bursts out in raw emotion. It should be frightening, should be terrifying knowing what Akira does, but it only draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

Akechi is fire. But even fire can be tempered. Even fire can be fun to use before it’s put out.

Akechi is … 

“Who said I was talking about the game?”

… going to kill him. Pun intended.


End file.
